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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27563500">My brain takes a vacation just to give my heart more room</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/disjointed_scribblings/pseuds/disjointed_scribblings'>disjointed_scribblings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the whole mix tape [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Musical References, Pining, Sandwiches, Sibling Bonding, Unresolved Sexual Tension, cows (cameo), suggestive eating of a grilled cheese sandwich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:35:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27563500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/disjointed_scribblings/pseuds/disjointed_scribblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Fitzwilliam was in the Meryton Cafe, and Leo Bennet might just have lost his goddamn mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the whole mix tape [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My brain takes a vacation just to give my heart more room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Darcy Fitzwilliam was in the Meryton Cafe.</p>
<p class="p1">Leo Bennet almost turned around and walked out. She hadn’t seen him—he was safe. He could go and sit in his truck, and read his book, and get his sister Kitty to bring some leftovers out to him on her break.</p>
<p class="p1">He almost went, but Kitty spotted him just then and pulled a face. Darcy was up at the counter, talking to her—probably asking about the origins of the coffee beans they used, or the organic credentials of the produce.</p>
<p class="p1">Last summer, that thought would have made him just as annoyed as Kitty. Now, it made him feel… fond. That was one thing you could say about someone as committed to her ethics as Darcy Fitzwilliam—she’d always choose a small local business like his Uncle Phil’s cafe over a big chain like the Timmies on the other side of Main Street.</p>
<p class="p1">He’d wondered, ever since he’d heard her friend Chuck was back for the summer, whether she would show. Had spent too much time wondering, probably. Had laid awake nights, embarrassingly—torn between never wanting to face her and desperately wanting to see her.</p>
<p class="p1">And now here she was.</p>
<p class="p2">And he might just have lost his goddamn mind. </p>
<p class="p1">“Leo,” said Kitty, pushing herself gratefully back from the counter (and away from Darcy) as he approached. “I’ll get you a coffee.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Thanks,” he said, and looked at Darcy and promptly forgot about his sister's existence. “Hey, Darcy.” Had she tensed up as he approached, or was it just his imagination?</p>
<p class="p1">“Hello, Leo.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Chuck didn’t mention you were coming to town.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I was just here for the weekend. I’m grabbing some lunch before I head out. I have to stop at my aunt’s in Hunsford on the way so I need to get a good start.”</p>
<p class="p1">She looked fresh and pretty and distant, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her. There were things he <em>wanted</em> to say—things like <em>I’m sorry</em>, and <em>I think I changed my mind</em>, and <em>You’re my candle in the window on a cold dark winter’s night.</em> But any of that would just make things awkward and uncomfortable.</p>
<p class="p1">Thank god Kitty came back then with his coffee. Leo took a stool — leaving an empty seat between him and Darcy.</p>
<p class="p1">“Thanks, Kitty. What’s good today?”</p>
<p class="p1">“For you? BLT with peameal bacon.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What are you having?” he asked Darcy.</p>
<p class="p1">“The special.”</p>
<p class="p1">Of course she was. She was the reason there <em>was</em> a special. Last summer she’d asked for the house specialty—“whatever dish sets you apart from other restaurants,” she’d explained to Kitty in a haughty voice, “the thing attracts people here.”</p>
<p class="p1">“As opposed to where?” Kitty had asked derisively. “Tim’s? The chip truck?”</p>
<p class="p1">So instead Darcy had asked for whatever the special was—“something seasonal? Local maybe?”—and Kitty had made something up on the spot.</p>
<p class="p1">The truth was, nothing on the menu had changed since Uncle Phil had taken over the cafe thirty years earlier. But Darcy had liked whatever they’d whipped up, and Kitty had been annoyed enough by the exchange to sweet-talk Uncle Phil into a daily sandwich and soup-or-salad special.</p>
<p class="p1">“Today’s special is not for you,” Kitty was saying now, and Leo picked up his coffee cup and tried to shake off the memory.</p>
<p class="p1">“Why not? What is it?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Grilled cheese on fresh sourdough with a salad of microgreens tossed in raspberry vinaigrette.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Why is that not for me? That sounds delicious.”</p>
<p class="p1">“<em>Because</em>,” Kitty said, rolling her eyes, “the cheese is two-year-aged cheddar and there’s also a slice of heirloom tomato on the sandwich.”</p>
<p class="p1">Horrified, Leo almost dropped his coffee cup. “What? That’s sacrilege. You’re <em>melting</em> the good cheese? And diluting it with tomato? That’s like making a mixed drink with the top-shelf scotch!”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, that’s why I already put in the order for a BLT for you.” Kitty rolled her eyes again. “Drink your coffee.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I didn’t realize you were such a cheddar purist,” Darcy said as Kitty went to check on another customer.</p>
<p class="p1">Hearing a teasing note to her voice, Leo let himself grin. “I’m a fifth generation dairyman, and you didn’t think I’d have strong opinions about cheese?”</p>
<p class="p1">“It hadn’t occurred to me.” She turned to face him full-on for the first time since he’d come into the cafe. This angle highlighted the length of her legs underneath her floaty sundress. Leo tried very hard not to obviously stare. “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”</p>
<p class="p1">Was there? She might not be an expert the trivial details, but she’d seen him in just about every mood he had—even the worst ones—and that counted for a hell of a lot more.</p>
<p class="p1">“I dunno, I’d say by this point you know me better than pretty much anyone,” he told her, before he could think better of it. </p>
<p class="p1">He watched her lips part and her eyes widen, darken. The empty space between them seemed insubstantial all of a sudden; he could have sworn he could feel her breath against his cheek—</p>
<p class="p1">“Here we go, one daily special.” Kitty slid a plate in front of Darcy.</p>
<p class="p1">Leo cleared his throat and tried to look like a guy who hadn’t just almost lunged at a beautiful woman right in front of his younger sister.</p>
<p class="p1">“What time are you coming over tonight?” he asked Kitty, to cover for his confusion. Sundays meant an obligatory family dinner for the Bennets, and Kitty was usually roped into helping with the cooking.</p>
<p class="p1">From her raised eyebrow, Leo gathered that his sister didn’t like the reminder. “Before you’re done with the milking, I’m sure.”</p>
<p class="p1">He grinned. “Aw, come on. You love Sunday dinner. Is Dan bringing beer?” </p>
<p class="p1">“I doubt it,” said Kitty. “We broke up.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What? Since—“ Leo mentally calculated the last time he’d seen Kitty with her on-again-off-again boyfriend, who also worked with them at Longbourn Dairy Farm. “Since Wednesday?”</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty shrugged. “We had a fight on Friday night.”</p>
<p class="p1">This was new. Usually Kitty and Dan split when Lydia was single and bored and in need of a wingwoman and (from what Leo could tell) got back together once Lydia had found someone else to distract her and didn’t require Kitty’s constant company anymore. But Lydia had recently torched her reputation in Meryton and moved north. It didn’t seem likely she’d badgered Kitty into breaking up with Dan this time.</p>
<p class="p1">“Maybe you’ll be back together by dinner,” Leo suggested, not entirely joking.</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty gave him the kind of annoyed-woman look perfected by their mother, and left to wipe down an empty booth.</p>
<p class="p1">Leo turned back to Darcy, who was pointing her phone at her plate.</p>
<p class="p1">“Instagram?” he asked.</p>
<p class="p1">Darcy put her phone down with a half-smile. “Perhaps.”</p>
<p class="p1">He watched her pick up a triangle of the sacrilegious sandwich and take a bite. It shouldn’t have been sexy. And yet—</p>
<p class="p1">“Mmm!”</p>
<p class="p1">Oh, <em>fuck</em>.</p>
<p class="p1">“Mmm,” she said again, swallowing and dabbing her lips with a napkin, as Leo tried to inconspicuously rearrange himself on the barstool. “You don’t know what you’re missing, cheddar purist. This is really delicious.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Uh,” said Leo, watching her lick her lips and raise the sandwich to her mouth again. “I’ll take your word for it. Not going to disrespect superior cheeses by melting them with bread and tomatoes.”</p>
<p class="p1">Her eyes sparkled at the implied challenge. “Hm. I’d make you try some, but I want to eat the whole thing. This may actually be the best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had.”</p>
<p class="p1">“The pinnacle of grilled cheese perfection?”</p>
<p class="p1">She just grinned and held his gaze as she took another generous bite.</p>
<p class="p1">Leo didn’t even realize he was leaning in toward her until Kitty said, “And a peameal bacon BLT with fries for you,” and slid a plate in front of him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Jeeze.” His sister’s presence was almost as good as a cold shower. “Thanks, Kitty. Looks good.”</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty raised her eyebrows at him. “Uh-huh. Unless you’ve changed your mind about the sanctity of the top-shelf cheddar?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Ah—no. This is great, thanks.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Sure.” Kitty bustled off again, and yet somehow still managed to give the impression that she wasn’t finished with this conversation. How the hell did the women in his family do that?</p>
<p class="p1">Leo busied himself drowning his fries in vinegar. By the time he felt able to look at her again, Darcy was finished with her sandwich and toying with the microgreen salad with her fork. Was he imagining things, or was she watching him out of the corner of her eye? Maybe she wanted one of his fries. But no, her gaze was lower—</p>
<p class="p1">“What’s that you’re reading?” she asked suddenly, and he realized she’d been eyeing up the book in his pocket, not him.</p>
<p class="p1">The book in his pocket, which was a history of late nineteenth and early twentieth century stone buildings in Lambton, including most of the earlier buildings at Pemberley University.</p>
<p class="p1">“This? Oh, just a book about… architecture,” he said. It wasn’t untrue. He just wasn’t quite sure he wanted her to know how much he had loved her hometown, her workplace, on his brief visit. </p>
<p class="p1">Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you read about architecture.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Just a hobby. I like old buildings.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I remember now. When you were in Lambton you were upset at the way the house you were staying in had been modernized.”</p>
<p class="p1">“With no respect for the original Victorian features,” he agreed.</p>
<p class="p1">They both smiled. It almost felt like the last time they’d seen each other, in Darcy’s parked car in front of that house in Lambton. When he’d almost kissed her, and then Lydia had gotten herself arrested and ruined everything.</p>
<p class="p1">This time the silence, the eye contact, went on a little bit too long, like they were each waiting for the other to say something. There was still that empty stool between them.</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, I need to get going,” Darcy said abruptly, breaking the weird tension.</p>
<p class="p1">She leaned down to pick up the bag on the floor next to her stool, and for just a second Leo had a clear view straight down the neckline of her dress, to the white bra patterned with yellow and blue flowers that gently cupped her breasts.</p>
<p class="p1">It was just a second—but it was enough. It was more than fucking enough. That image was seared into his brain.</p>
<p class="p1">A wet plop dragged Leo out of his sexual stupor. It took him a second to work out that he’d squeezed his sandwich so hard that a tomato slice had oozed out and fallen onto the knee of his jeans. He put the sandwich down and tried to mop up the tomato juice and mayo with a napkin. Conveniently, this also gave him an excuse to not look at Darcy for a minute so he could calm himself the hell down.</p>
<p class="p1">“It was nice to see you,” Darcy was saying. He couldn’t tell if she meant it or not.</p>
<p class="p1">“Ah, you too. Have a safe trip.”</p>
<p class="p1">He looked up from the stain on his jeans to find her watching him, mouth partly open like she was about to say something else. After a moment she gave her head a quick shake and said, “Well, goodbye then.”</p>
<p class="p1">Before he could say something—probably something stupid, to be honest, like <em>Don’t go</em>, or <em>Can we start over</em>, or <em>I’ve forgotten just what I was fighting for</em>, she walked away.</p>
<p class="p1">He watched until she wasn’t visible through the cafe’s windows any longer, and then turned morosely back to his sandwich.</p>
<p class="p1">And encountered Kitty’s suspicious gaze.</p>
<p class="p1">“What?” he said, a bit grumpily.</p>
<p class="p1">“What was that?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I don’t know what you mean.”</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful, and turned back to the kitchen.</p>
<p class="p1">Leo surveyed his plate. His remaining fries were cold and soggy from the vinegar, but he ate the last tomato-less bit of his sandwich and drained his coffee.</p>
<p class="p1">“Done?” Kitty again. Leo nodded. “Good. I’m taking my break now, and you’re coming with me.”</p>
<p class="p1">His sisters didn’t leave much room for argument once they’d decided on something, and Kitty was no exception, even if she didn’t pull it as often as the other two did. She actually physically grabbed his arm and dragged him out back.</p>
<p class="p1">“What—“</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty pushed him onto an overturned milk crate and plopped herself down onto a neighbouring one. “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” she asked, unscrewing the lid on her water bottle.</p>
<p class="p1">Shit, was he that obvious?</p>
<p class="p1">“What are you talking about?” he tried.</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty rolled her eyes. “Oh, <em>please, </em>Leo. You’re not very good at lying. What the hell is going on with you and Ms. Snob?”</p>
<p class="p1">Maybe he was that obvious.</p>
<p class="p1">“Nothing! You must be imagining things.”</p>
<p class="p1">She snorted at that. “Yeah, sure. If I’m going to imagine something about my weird big brother it’s definitely going to involve uncomfortable levels of unresolved sexual tension.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Jesus, Kitty—“</p>
<p class="p1">“At first,” she said over his pitiful attempt at an interruption, “I thought it was just more of whatever fucked-up vibe the two of you had going last year. But your face when she left—honestly, Leo, what the hell. I thought you hated her.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I don’t—I mean, it’s complicated,” he said, which was probably the greatest understatement of his life.</p>
<p class="p1">His sister bumped his knee with her water bottle. “Well, since I’ve already been forced to witness whatever the hell that was in there, why don’t you tell me about it and we’ll see if we can’t uncomplicate it a bit."</p>
<p class="p1">Leo rubbed at the tomato stain on his knee again. He hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone about Darcy, about the worryingly warm way he felt around her, about how wrong he’d been, but—well, damn. If Kitty already knew part of it, he might as well get her input on the rest, right? Maybe it really wasn’t that complicated. Maybe a woman’s perspective would help.</p>
<p class="p1">“You remember how I went to visit Lucas in Hunsford last fall? Well, Darcy was there, and we got in a fight and said some awful things to each other, and—“ he closed his eyes, not believing he was really telling this to his little sister—“and then we had a… a <em>moment</em>. Anyway, doesn’t matter. But she wrote me a note and apologized for being rude and explained some things that were going on and… I realized I was shitty to her.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Did you sleep together?”</p>
<p class="p1">“No! God.” His face was hot. He was probably bright red. This was what came of talking about these things with sisters.</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty considered. “Fine, I take it back. If you’d already hooked up you wouldn’t have been two seconds away from banging at my front counter.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Stop saying things like that!”</p>
<p class="p1">“Sure, sure. Continue.”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo rubbed a hand over his still-hot face before continuing. “I saw her again in March, when we took Eddie to Pemberley University for a campus tour. Not like on purpose, we just ran into her. And she was so… so nice, and friendly, and we all went out for dinner together and had a great time, and Darcy was just… relaxed, and fun. And then she drove me back to the Airbnb and we talked about our childhoods and our parents and…”</p>
<p class="p1">“…and you fell in love with her.”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo whirled around so fast he almost fell off the milk crate. “What? No. What?”</p>
<p class="p1">But Kitty had her dreamy, hopeless romantic face on. “Oh, that’s so cute. And now that you’re in love you can’t communicate like normal people anymore. Just gaze longingly at each other over your sandwiches.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I object to that interpretation.”</p>
<p class="p1">Sarcastic Kitty reappeared. “<em>You</em> didn’t see the look of pathetic pining on your own face when she left. Besides, this makes everything make so much more sense. I couldn’t figure out why Darcy was helping Lydia out, but people in love do weird things.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Wait, what?”</p>
<p class="p1">“You know, Darcy and Lydia and the legal stuff?” Leo still didn’t have any clue. Kitty’s eyes widened. “You don’t know. Oh, crap. Was that supposed to be a secret? Lydia didn’t tell me it was supposed to be a secret.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What happened?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Darcy found a defence attorney for Lydia and paid her fees. I think she helped broker Jordana Wickham’s plea bargain with the Crown attorney, too.”</p>
<p class="p1">“But Aunt Grace found Lydia’s lawyer. She was doing it pro bono.”</p>
<p class="p1">“No,” said Kitty slowly. “Aunt Grace got a call from Darcy saying she’d made an appointment for some fancy lawyer to see Lydia. And then when Grace said it was out of our price range, Darcy said not to worry about it.”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo stared at his sister, uncomprehending. What—why—</p>
<p class="p1">“I couldn’t figure it out,” Kitty continued. “Why would she want to help Lydia, a person she’d known for a few months, and honestly didn’t seem to like much? But if she’s in love with you—"</p>
<p class="p1">“She tried to warn me about Jordana,” he managed. This made more sense than the idea that Darcy had done it because of anything she felt about <em>him</em>. “They had some history. Darcy just probably felt guilty she didn’t tell more people.”</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I mean, I said some—some pretty bad things. Honestly, it’s shocking that she doesn’t hate me.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You guys do seem to be working that love-hate angle pretty well. It was <em>very</em> intense in there.” She sighed. “Maybe that’s the spark Dan and I are missing. Maybe if we drop the gloves and have a real knock-down drag-out fight we can get some of the passion back.”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo was grateful for the distraction from the mess of his own emotions, even if he shied away from thinking about his sister and passion in the same sentence.</p>
<p class="p1">“Are things with Dan…?”</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty took a long sip from her water bottle and wiped her mouth. “They’re fine. We’re fine. It’s not exactly a grand romance, but how many people get something like that? Dan treats me well. And the make-up sex is always good.”</p>
<p class="p1">“God, Kitty! I didn’t need to know that.”</p>
<p class="p1">She laughed. “Well, I’m not going to give you details. But why do you think we break up so much?”</p>
<p class="p1">He sighed, reached over to pull her into a hug. “Love you, little sister.”</p><hr/>
<p class="p1">Leo chewed over that conversation the whole drive home. Had Darcy really done that for Lydia? For the whole family, really? For a family she had basically called ignorant rednecks?</p>
<p class="p1"><em>Got a crush on you</em>, Bruce Springsteen sang on the soundtrack in his head, and it was so unfortunately true that Leo gave in and sung it aloud.</p>
<p class="p1">Of course, because he couldn’t stop thinking about Darcy, his phone let him know as soon as he parked his truck that she’d posted a new Instagram story.</p>
<p class="p1">He stared at the little circle around her face for so long the screen went back to sleep. Had she posted the picture of her sandwich from the cafe? Something about her aunt’s place in Hunsford? Something else entirely? He wanted desperately to see what she’d posted, hoping it would give him some insight into what was on her mind. And yet—if he watched her story, she’d be able to tell.</p>
<p class="p1">“Fuck that,” he muttered finally, and tapped her icon.</p>
<p class="p1">The first panel of the story was text. “This is why I #EatLocal #SupportSmallBusinesses! Just had the best grilled cheese sandwich of my life at @MerytonCafe the hidden jewel of Hertford County!”</p>
<p class="p1">Then the story switched to the next panel, which was a picture of said sandwich…</p>
<p class="p1">And, Leo was shocked to see, <em>himself</em> in the background.</p>
<p class="p1">He let the time run out and then swiped back to see it again. After all, instagram didn’t tell you how many times people looked at your story, did it?</p>
<p class="p1">Yeah, he was in her picture all right. The focus was clearly on the triangle of the sandwich sitting upright on the plate—Kitty always said that was the best way to plate grilled cheese, for reasons Leo could never remember—but Leo was clearly visible in the background. He was smiling at something off-camera—teasing Kitty, maybe?</p>
<p class="p1">But—why? </p>
<p class="p1">If the best picture she had taken of her lunch included him so prominently—then had she been taking pictures <em>of</em> him? And why had she posted it anyway, not even blocking him out with an emoji or something? And if this wasn’t the best picture she’d taken of her lunch—why choose this one?</p>
<p class="p1">“What the fuck,” he said aloud in the confines of the truck. “What does that mean?”</p>
<p class="p1">The darkened screen of his phone had no answers for him.</p><hr/>
<p class="p1">By milking time, Leo was feeling out of sorts, itchy beneath the skin. He had a slow, sexy old Eric Church song stuck in his head, and didn’t realize he was whistling aloud until Dan said, “Oh man, great song.”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo stopped and stared at the other man for so long that the cow whose udders he was wiping down started to shift restlessly. <em>Crash right through the front door, back you up against the wall…</em></p>
<p class="p1">“What?” said Dan.</p>
<p class="p1">“Dude. Too weird. You’re dating my <em>sister</em>.” Too late he remembered that they were broken up now, that Kitty had said some things about the state of their relationship that Leo was trying very hard to wipe out of his brain.</p>
<p class="p1">Dan shrugged and carried on with the milking. “Just saying.”</p>
<p class="p1">Wondering what Dan felt about a relationship that was starting to grate on Kitty distracted Leo from the earlier train of his thoughts, until he chivvied the last cow back into the barn, turned around, and the memory of Darcy leaning over leaped into his mind, unbidden.</p>
<p class="p1">God damn it.</p>
<p class="p1">He went to shower before dinner with his family, hoping that the water would wash away this state of mind along with the dirt. But getting naked while horny was, it turned out, not the best remedy. As he lathered soap on his arms, he imagined Darcy’s hands instead of his own. He only had fleeting impressions of her body—the shape of her legs, the honeyed scent of her hair, the way she’d felt against him the one time they kissed, the sounds she made when enjoying her food, and now, pale breasts scooped into that white and blue and yellow bra—and his mind kept trying to slot those pieces together like a puzzle, imagining her under the warm spray with him.</p>
<p class="p1">He was due downstairs for dinner with his family in less than twenty minutes.</p>
<p class="p1">“Shit,” he muttered, turning the water as cold as he could handle.</p>
<p class="p1">The cold shower got him through the family dinner, even with Kitty’s knowing looks across the table—of course she’d seen the insta story; Darcy had tagged the cafe, after all. But lying in bed that night, his body felt hot and prickly again, and when he closed his eyes all he could see were yellow and blue flowers dancing on a white background.</p>
<p class="p1">He’d been here enough times in the year since he’d met Darcy that he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he dealt with it. At least she’d gone back home and he wouldn’t have to worry about running into her tomorrow. Last summer, he’d been much more easily riled up when she’d said something snobby if he’d gotten off to thoughts of her the night before.</p>
<p class="p1">Leo pushed down his pyjama pants and stopped trying to repress thoughts of Darcy, letting his mind and his hand wander freely. Just thinking of her eating that damn grilled cheese sandwich was enough to get him going—her moan of pleasure, the way her tongue had slipped out to lick the crumbs off her lips. God, he was pathetic.</p>
<p class="p1">It took an almost embarrassingly short time to finish. He cleaned himself up, tossed the used kleenex in the general direction of the garbage can, curled up on top of his comforter and fell asleep.</p><hr/>
<p class="p1">His phone jarred him awake. Squinting open one eye, Leo could see that it was a bit before 11pm.</p>
<p class="p1">“What on earth,” he muttered, jabbing at the touch screen ineffectually for a moment before he remembered he had to swipe.</p>
<p class="p1">“Goddamn it,” he grumbled when he managed to answer successfully. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait until morning?”</p>
<p class="p1">A pause, and then an unexpected, cultured voice in his ear. “Excuse me?”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo brought the phone away from his ear to look at it again. The caller was not, as he’d thought in his half-asleep squinting, his sister Kitty, but rather Dr. Kit De Bourgh, aka Darcy’s snooty aunt.</p>
<p class="p1">The hell?</p>
<p class="p1">“I’m sorry, I thought it was someone else,” he said now. Why the fuck would Kit De Bourgh be calling him? “Also, it’s the middle of the night.”</p>
<p class="p1">Another pause. “It is <em>not</em>. The average person doesn’t go to bed until 11:30, and if they were going to do so earlier, it certainly would not be on a weekend.”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo’s sleep-muzzled brain tried to follow that sentence and failed. “Well, the cows <em>certainly</em> don’t care whether it’s a weekend or not, so I’ll be up at four-thirty to milk them, which does make this feel like the middle of the night.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Positively barbaric,” murmured Kit de Bourgh, as if to herself. “And such an antiquated mode of living. What can she be thinking?”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo had woken up enough by now to be more annoyed than confused.</p>
<p class="p1">“Apologies if I’m interrupting your internal monologue, but why exactly are you calling?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Apology accepted. I’m calling to discuss my niece, Darcy Fitzwilliam.”</p>
<p class="p1">When she didn’t seem inclined to continue, rubbed at his eyes. “Yup, I know her.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, I should think so! I’d hardly need to discuss her with you if you didn’t <em>know</em> her.”</p>
<p class="p1">She made “know” sound like an accusation. Leo cast a guilty glance over to the garbage can where the kleenex he’d used in his earlier activities were sitting on top of the heap, advertising just how well he <em>knew</em> Darcy like some kind of beacon of inappropriate thoughts.</p>
<p class="p1">“It might be because your call woke me up from a sound sleep, but I have no idea why you want to discuss Darcy with me, so if you wouldn’t mind — “</p>
<p class="p1">Dr. De Bourgh muttered something that sounded like “Men!” and said “Very well, then I’ll get straight to the point. I’m a matter-of-fact sort of person. Never let it be said that I soften my language to appear more socially acceptable, a habit that so many women have fallen into.”</p>
<p class="p1">“I wouldn’t dream of accusing you of softening your language.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Hmm. It has come to my attention that you are… involved with my niece.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Uh,” said Leo, definitely not looking toward the corner of the room where the garbage can was. “What?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, don’t play coy with me, young man,” Dr. De Bourgh snapped. “I know when you were here at Rosings she left her scarf behind in your vehicle—something my colleagues in English Literature would tell you is a metaphor for loss of virtue, i.e. sexual exploitation, if there ever was one—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Jesus!”</p>
<p class="p1">“And I know you contrived to get her alone when you were visiting Pemberley, and I know you took her to lunch today at some shabby countrified establishment—“</p>
<p class="p1">“You mean the cafe my sister runs and my uncle <em>owns</em>?”</p>
<p class="p1">“—and now she is talking about spending an extended vacation in your little middle-of-nowhere hamlet, which, frankly, I had never heard of and wouldn’t be surprised if no one else had either.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, I don’t manage Darcy’s schedule,” Leo said as calmly as he could while the insult seethed within him. “She’s free to take whatever vacation she wants at whatever location she wants.”</p>
<p class="p1">“A-ha! You admitted you’re not in a relationship.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Did I?” Leo was rapidly losing the plot. Not that he'd had much of a grasp on it to begin with. If he wasn’t so angry he might think this was a bizarre dream.</p>
<p class="p1">“Your openness about your lack of control over her life.”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo had to take the phone away from his ear and stare at it for a second before replying.</p>
<p class="p1">“That doesn’t mean we’re not in a relationship. We could be in a normal relationship where one partner doesn’t <em>control</em> the other one.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Psh. I know how old-fashioned you rural people are. And farmers! Absolutely regressive gender politics. What Darcy’s told me about your mother—one of those women so complicit in her own oppression that she doesn’t even recognize it! I tried to lend a girl like that my copy of <em>The Cinderella Complex</em> during graduate school and she threw it in my face. Some women are so brainwashed—”</p>
<p class="p1">Actually, Leo had read <em>The Cinderella Complex</em>, back in one of the women's studies classes a buddy had convinced him to take in university. It had been a while, but he couldn’t remember it talking particularly about “rural people”. He fell back on his pillows, badly wanting this conversation to be over. </p>
<p class="p1">“I’m sorry, what does 80s feminism have to do with whether or not two adults are in a relationship in the 2010s?”</p>
<p class="p1">She sniffed. “Oh, 1980s feminism? Try 1950s values. I know your type—“</p>
<p class="p1">“I don’t think you do.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You want to convince my niece to be some kind of… of <em>farm wife</em> who will cater to your every whim—“</p>
<p class="p1">“Have you ever <em>met</em> a farmer’s wife? Besides, I don’t think I could make Darcy do anything like that, even if I wanted to.”</p>
<p class="p1">“—these women who will sit there and say that feminism is the problem! Who totally sublimate their own selves because they’re so afraid of being alone! Well, let me tell you—“</p>
<p class="p1">Leo moved the phone a few inches back from his ear. “I’m still lost,” he managed, when Dr. De Bourgh paused in her rant about women who were brainwashed by the patriarchy. “Why do you care if Darcy and I are dating? And even if you do, shouldn’t you be having this conversation with her?”</p>
<p class="p1">“I care because she has worked very hard for her career, even though she had to begin it with the handicap of raising her younger sister, and I will not see her give it all up to bury herself in the country as some kind of glorified housewife, cooking your meals and raising your babies, going to, I don’t know, tractor festivals and quilting bees. I will not have it, and that is the honest truth!”</p>
<p class="p1">Leo sat straight up in bed on those words, still unsure what the fuck was actually happening but aware he’d reached his limit. “Dr. De Bourgh, thank you for your honesty, and I’ll return the favour by being honest with you. You’ve woken me up from my night’s sleep to insult me, my family, and my home, and I’m sorry to tell you this, but it was all for nothing. If Darcy and I were dating—which, for the record, we currently are not—then where I live, and what I do for a living, would continue to be none of your fucking business, and if you have any issues with where Darcy lives and what she does for a living, then you would still be better off taking them up with her, not me. I don’t know what you’ve heard, or read, about ‘the country’, but rural communities are not a monolith, and I’ve never met anyone quite as ‘backwards’ as what you’re implying.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re not in a relationship,” said the decorated and much-lauded Dr. Kit De Bourgh, who had at least one PhD and apparently selective hearing. “Will you promise not to enter into one?”</p>
<p class="p1">“No,” said Leo. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back to sleep. In less than six hours, I’ll be milking cows, side by side with my sister, who’s more of a dairy farmer than I am. Good <em>night</em>, Dr. De Bourgh.”</p>
<p class="p1">Hanging up by tapping a little red button on the glass screen wasn’t as satisfying as slamming down a receiver or even forcefully shutting a flip-phone would have been, so he made up for it by chucking his phone across the room. Then he had to get out of bed and turn the light on so he could find it again.</p>
<p class="p1">He tossed some junk on the top of his garbage can to bury the used kleenex. “As my colleagues in English Literature would tell you, that’s a metaphor for a guilty conscience if there ever was one,” he muttered in a half-hearted impression of Kit De Bourgh, and wondered if forgetting a scarf really was a metaphor for lost virtue. Sounded weird, but he hadn't English lit class in something like 15 years, so what did he know? And that wasn't Kit De Bourgh's field, so really, what did <em>she</em> know? About anything? </p>
<p class="p1">What the fuck? What the actual fuck?</p>
<p class="p1">The insult to him, to his mother, echoed uncomfortably some of the things Darcy had said before, a long time ago, but this was a thousand times worse. Dr. De Bourgh’s clear disdain felt like a kick in the face. Her total lack of respect for his time, her disregard for the fact that she’d inconvenienced him by waking him up to listen to her paranoid ranting…</p>
<p class="p1">And what right did she have to go barging in on her niece’s life behind her back? Leo could not, for a moment, picture Darcy meekly submitting to a male partner wanting her to rearrange her schedule around him, let alone move somewhere without job prospects in the field that she loved.</p>
<p class="p1">But then: what made Kit De Bourgh think he and Darcy were dating in the first place? The instagram story, if he had to guess, combined with the scarf thing—he’d totally forgotten that she’d left her scarf behind the night she’d propositioned him and started them down this path. Lambton—that intel must have come from Darcy’s sister, who had left them alone together. So that made three times they’d been in a situation that maybe could look like a date from the outside, since last November. Not exactly a strong case. Had Darcy said something to make her aunt think—</p>
<p class="p1">Leo tried to tamp down the hope that arose on that thought. The idea that Darcy would even consider moving to Meryton! Maybe, he tried to reason, Darcy had told her aunt about the plans Chuck had put in motion to spend more time here, close to John but away from the university, and this was some kind of misunderstanding.</p>
<p class="p1">And yet. His traitorous brain supplied the images he wasn’t sure he wanted to see. Waking up with Darcy every morning. Making her the fancy ethically-sourced coffee she liked, but making fun of her for liking it at the same time. Looking out for restaurants they’d both enjoy, with good beer and good (but organic and preferably local) food. Singing old Guess Who songs in the car while Darcy laughed at him. Crawling into bed together at the end of a long day…</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, shit,” he said aloud into the stillness of the room.</p>
<p class="p1">Kitty had been right, earlier. He was in love with Darcy.</p>
<p class="p1">And after rejecting her, insulting her, letting his family take advantage of her money, and being rude to her aunt—it was a miracle if she’d even look at him again.</p>
<p class="p1">Punch-drunk and rattled, he went to find his headphones. He didn’t know what to feel, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep tonight.</p>
<p class="p1">Closing the lights, he got back into bed and scrolled through Spotify until he found a song to help him ease his mind:</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Everything is bleak</em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>It’s the middle of the night</em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>You’re all alone and the dummies might be right…</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Songs in this episode include:<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpOULjyy-n8">Can’t Fight This Feeling</a> (REO Speedwagon)<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDN8pvyKYkU">Crush on You</a> (Bruce Springsteen &amp; the E Street Band)<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2gnoMAocnbs">Like a Wrecking Ball</a> (Eric Church)<br/><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BN9i5Z01kFI">My Music at Work</a> (The Tragically Hip)</p>
<p>Title comes from Crush on You.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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